


All Mouth

by hellkitty



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellkitty/pseuds/hellkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>just some Whirl and Skids shenanigans for tf-speedwriting</p>
            </blockquote>





	All Mouth

“Ever wonder about Rodimus?” Whirl’s footplates kicked up small clouds of grayish dust in the water as he walked.  It was dark down here, murky and greeny-grey in the heavily-pressurized water that sluiced through them as they moved.

“Depends what you wonder I’m wondering about him,” Skids answered, evenly.  The light mounted on his shoulders sliced through the cold water they were standing in. “And why you’re wondering.”

“Cute,” Whirl said, swinging the gun in an arc, feeling the water’s resistance, in that itchy-trigger-claw way he had. There were only two reactions to not having something to shoot at: one, Whirl’s favorite, make something to shoot at and two, be bored.  He was hoping for a one.

Or better yet a zero: something worth shooting at introduces itself in grand style. He’d be good with that, too.

“Kinda wondering about his choice for this mission,” Whirl clarified. “Mind you, I’m flattered that when you hear Barranian Death Worm, the first thing you think of is me.”

“There are worse things to connect you with, sure,” Skids said, easily.  “But the first thing I’d think of about a Death Worm is…well…’bait’.”

“That’s because that’s your job on this mission,” Whirl said.  “You’re the bait, I’m the badaft. Classic fairy tale stuff.”

“I don’t remember any fairy tales about that.”  Sometimes Skids wondered what Whirl read.  Then he realized he probably didn’t want to know.

“Yeah, but ‘I don’t remember’ is sorta your catchphrase,” Whirl said.  “Kinda lame, but there you go.”

“It’s a feint,” Skids said.  “Causes my enemies to underestimate me.”

“So wait.” Whirl stopped, turning around, the beam of yellow light from his optic blinding Skids. “You deliberately set yourself up to seem like a lame-o.” 

“Tactician,” Skids said, putting one hand up to try to block some of the light. Surely Whirl had to—yeah, he probably knew. It was Whirl. And Skids had forgotten a lot, but Whirl was, uh, memorable. “It’s a tactic.”

“Psssh, whatever.”  Whirl turned back in front of him.

“What’s your catchphrase, then?”  He had the distinct feeling he was going to regret this, but, well, maybe he was a masochist. It would certainly explain the amount of time he spent hanging out with Swerve.

“Me? I transcend catchphrases.”

“Huh.  Good. I like it. Very, uh, meta.”

The gold of Whirl’s optic swung back at him, blinked, swung forward again, the light chopping the stalactites into strips.  “Whatever. Nerds don’t get a vote.” 

“I’m a nerd?” Ouch. That almost hurt. Except that it was coming from Whirl. 

“Nerd. Just a more economical way of saying, you know, ‘theoretician’.” 

“Right.” Probably should have seen that coming. Skids fell in behind Whirl as the columns bunched together, leaving only a narrow path between them.  Little puffs of dust blossomed under Whirl’s almost-dainty footplates, and Skids almost made a comment, but he figured that saying the word ‘dainty’ to Whirl while he had extra guns was probably a bad idea.

See? Tactician.

“So, wait.  What were you wondering about Rodimus? Or wondering if I wondered about what I wondered about Rodimus?”  Or, whatever. Hard to tell with Whirl.

“What? Oh yeah. Right. Just wondering about, you know, some of his team choices.”

“You mean sending a grounder and a helicopter to the bottom of the ocean?” Because, yeah, Skids sure had wondered about that. 

“What? No, no way.  We’re the only decent team he’s made. You know, synergy.  Strengths and weaknesses.”

“I put up with you.” 

“Yeah! You put up with—hey.  Two way street, here, you know.”  Whirl managed to huff, a mass of bubbles blurping from under his optic bell. It probably wasn’t the effect he was going for. 

“Hey. Uh. Yeah. Speaking of that.”  Skids stopped, stepping closer to one of the stalactites , waiting for the water to settle in his vision.   “Notice how we can’t find the Death Worm?”

“Yeah. Gettin’ bored down here.  Either Blaster’s pranking us or….”

Skids flicked his finger at the stalactite. Which did not thunk like stone but made something more of a hollow ‘tink’.  And the space seemed to fill with a low groaning, deep enough that it vibrated in their balance gyruses.  “Or we walked right into its mouth.”

The seafloor under their feet shuddered, the puffs of silt and sand rising in slow motion, stalactites and stalagmites shifting, suddenly hooking inward. 

“Yeah?” Whirl turned around, and there was an almost delighted glint in his optic, as he pulled his spare gun, barrels in his chest guns whirring.  “Cool.” 

“I’m not sure this qualifies as cool,” Skids said, stepping back, readying his own gun. 

"Cause you do 'tactics'," Whirl said. "Whirl's gonna educate you in cool. Starting right. About. Now." 


End file.
